Banned For Life

This weekend I got kicked out of a restaurant and asked not to come back. Ha! Me! Goody-two-shoes, angelic, first-born me! Although, I can't really take full-credit for this accomplishment.

Here's What Happened:
I went out to dinner with my dad, stepmom, grandma, and Chris on Saturday night. The parentals made reservations for us at a local restaurant that is apparently rated the Number One restaurant in town (according to Trip Advisor). So, we get there, and it's really nice inside, and we sit down at a circular table. The chef came out to welcome us, and he let us know that if we didn't like anything, they'd be happy to find something else.

SO, we got our drinks (I got a wonderful glass of Pinot Noir), we chatted, and then ordered our appetizers. I got the Beef Baguettini, which was crusty, toasty bread with beef in it and Jus and creamy stuff and oh man, it was good. And I continued to sip my pinot. So, a few of our main courses came out (not mine). My grandma's, dad's, and Chris's (even though he did not admit it) food was cold. Not even really warm. My stepmom's food then came, and it too was cold. So, they sent their food back. The waitress brought my grandmother another plate of the veal, and she told her to taste it while she hovered there. And, it wasn't hot. So, my grandmother said so. In the meantime, my scallop dish came out. It was hot. And yummy. And good. BUT, all of a sudden, Mr. Chef-Man bursts into the dining room, ranting about how two meals were sent back, and how it had been heated to 210 degrees, and how he couldn't do anything else. He was pretty much right up in my grandmother's face. So, she asked for her food back (mainly to try to get the guy to calm down), and said he had "thrown it against the wall." At this point, my dad was starting to get pissed at the very large chef who was yelling at his 82-year-old mother, and said, "so what is my mom supposed to eat?" and the chef said "I don't care." Which was really quite nice. Then, he just kept ranting and ranting, and Chris (bravely!) got up, tried to corral the man away from my grandma, and tried to talk reason with him. But he wouldn't have it, and he told us to get out. And never come back. Ha! So, we all stood up, looks of shock pasted on our faces, and left.

The man was completely insane. A waitress said "I'm sorry" as we filed out, and Mr. Chef Man told her "No you're not!" So he kicked us out, drinks half-drunk, bill not paid, cold food getting colder, and we exited into the night, laughing at how completely surreal the experience was.

There are a few things I wished I had thought of in the moment.

What Should Have Happened:
1. I should have chugged the last of my glass of wine. Should have been idea # 1 when the hilarity started.
2. I should have hamster-cheeked the rest of my scallops.
3. I should have left a tip for the waitress (not her fault!), but I had no cash and, in the moment, all we could do was get the hell out.
4. I should have defended my grandmother. But I was so shocked at was going on, that I literally couldn't move. Thank goodness for people like Chris. I was so proud of him.
5. I should have asked the chef for a doggie bag as a joke.

YIKES! Seriously! When you're paying $30-40 per person for a meal, you expect that shit to be HOT!

So, we drove to another restaurant, and had a lovely meal and a very nice waiter. And we all lived happliy ever after.

THE END!

Is That a Plantain, or are You Just Happy to See Me? (Or, How I Know I'm Still Not a Grownup)

Last night my boyfriend Chris and I went out to dinner with my dad, stepmom, and grandmother to this really nice place in town called Zocalo. It was fancy (faint-see)! I, however, was not.

My stepmom and I both got the scallop dish, which featured each scallop placed ever-so-delicately on top of a “tostone” which is apparently similar to a fried plantain (Unfortunately. I had assumed that something called a “tostone” would be, like, toasty bread or something. Shows you what I know). They were cut medallion style and were somewhere between the size of a silver dollar and a coaster. My stepmom informed us all that these were much bigger than plantains and proceeded asked the waiter (who was an awkward human being to begin with) how big these “tostone” fruits were.

Now, many items were discussed here, including girth and length, and hand gestures were used to demonstrate each (“Well, if they’re *this* big around, then they must be huge!). Everyone seemed very interested, but I literally had to turn my head away from the waiter and the conversation and stifle a huge guffaw. I had a really hard time understanding how everyone at the table was keeping their cool (Well, Chris was barely keeping his cool, but mainly because I was turned away from everyone else and laughing in his face) while this obviously suggestive conversation was taking place. I mean, come on! Are you seriously telling me that I was the only one who thought of a penis? I mean, water was about to come out my nose I was laughing so hard. And, I had to keep it secret because it was wildly inappropriate and we were in a faint-see joint. Plus, I really didn’t want to embarrass the waiter. I have no problem embarrassing people I’m related to, but this guy certainly didn’t deserve to have a customer laughing in his face about phallic-shaped fruits.

Ha, I’m grinning while I’m writing this thinking about how funny it was. You just can’t make this stuff up.

I guess this means I’m still not a grown up. Thank god.